Shadow of a Doubt
by PrognisAldiev
Summary: A particular Henchman's recent run-ins with some rather unfriendly young girls leaves him wondering if he chose the correct career path for him. Even he doesn't really think he makes the cut, so what should he do? Chases after the plot of RWBY and RWBY: Resolve. Will have sporadic updates, as this is lower on the priority list.
1. Chapter 1

**This right here is best read immediately before or after watching RWBY: Episode 1 - Ruby Rose, if only for a refresher on the events of the episode described here. This little side-story is intended to seem as if it could very well have happened (aside from obviously not being Canon. I own nothing. Hilarious to even think.) by fitting in between episodes and events.**

* * *

**Red Devil**

Doug did not have the makings of a good henchman. He was sure of this, because he knew the four merits a good henchman had to have;

Rule 1: A good henchman looked generic, and he fit that bill perfectly. He had been sent along with four other cronies, all of them wearing matching attire of black suits with fedoras, crimson ties and shades accentuating the look. They all had differing facial hair, though what he had was more like stubble his actual hair was a bit longer than theirs, poking out the sides of his hat dyed black as well. He might have been lagging behind the group a bit but that hardly warranted their concern.

Rule 2: A good henchman was cost efficient. If they had been considered elite henchmen, they would be getting paid a far better wage for following this Torchwick fellow; but as they were not nearly talented enough to boast a title like elite they were all little bang for little buck. It wasn't as if a store robbery needed an awful lot of skill, so again, he and his co-workers were a perfect fit.

Rule 3: A good henchman listened well. The order must be followed, if necessary repeated only once. He could do that fine, but put himself above what may be asked of him. The others here might have been of the same mind as he was, but were likely too stupid to understand when there was a line they shouldn't cross. When you were one of many, the numbers did that to people.

Rule 4: A good henchman, lastly, saw things through no matter how bad they got. Your goon should stick by and follow your every whim straight to hell itself for whatever meager sum you were supplying them with for their efforts. While many henchmen would sometimes bail out on their employers when the situation gets beyond saving, he was easily the first to dip out of service the moment a job went south.

As these second two of four traits were failings he wouldn't appropriate, Doug would never make a good henchman, or so he figured. Being a _good _henchman wasn't necessarily needed to succeed _as _a henchman, however, if his current status among the band he followed was any example. Technically, his tendency toward self-preservation had helped Junior more often than it hindered him; Doug unfailingly came back to tell his initial boss what went wrong, and what to expect most nights if a gig went awry. This was shaping up to be a night unlike those, where the lack of action was making them practically fall asleep at Torchwick's heels. Finally, after long hours of walking through the streets and shooing away scared passersby, they discovered a Dust Shop open this late in the night; _From Dust Til Dawn. _Tacky name, but it got the point across.

They stepped into the store with a jangle of chimes, and it was quiet for a moment until Raymond started talking. One of his fellows pulled a gun on the clerk hardly halfway through their boss' sentence, eager to get this over with. "Do you have _any _idea how hard it is to find a Dust Shop open this late?"

"Please, just take my Lien and leave!" The older man rasped with his hands skyward.

"Sh, sh, sh, sh... Calm down, we're not here for your money... grab the Dust." With that, the Henchman's third rule; obey. Four of them grabbed canisters and started filling with the dispensers at the side; one revealed a case and began demanding solid crystals. Doug glanced back from his corner grabbing some frost Dust, hearing another of his fellows speaking with a customer they must have missed; the kid by the magazines must have been twelve or something from the size, and she was wearing what may as well have been a gothic Lolita version of their own outfits. It was actually a little uncanny.

"Alright kid, hands where I can see 'em!"

All Doug said about the situation was more of a whisper to himself; "Is her cape moving by itself? Is anybody else seeing this? I mean what the fu -"

"Hey, I said hands in the air! You got a deathwish or somethin'?" Sliding back her hood, it became apparent that she was wearing headphones that must have made her oblivious to the whole event taken place so far. Doug turned back to his work, guessing the kid would soon be joining the owner reaching for the ceiling.

There was some more idle chat between them both, sounding like even more reiteration on just what was happening, and then the sound of hard impact and some crashing. Doug turned around fast enough to see one of the other cohorts hold her at gunpoint, shouting; "Freeze!"

Half a second later, he was soaring out the window on the end of her feet. She rose from the street as they all gawked at her out the shattered window, as something in her hands soon unfolded with the sounds of sliding metal into a scythe bigger than she was. Doug backed up involuntarily.

"Okay... Well? Get her." Torchwick commanded, and they served to define the Henchman's fourth rule, running out to greet the little hellion.

"Yeah, no..." Doug chose to watch from the window seat. Torchwick, who had migrated to the door, had yet to notice or didn't care. Within just a few more seconds, the girl had done some crazy spinning dropkick, along with wild swings of the back of her scythe powered by gunshots integrated with the weapon that hammered the others either across the street or down into craters. This suggested he had picked the right option.

Around this point, Doug looked back at the Dust Shop owner, silently made an apologetic gesture, and promptly made for the back door. He heard Torchwick make a witty comment about the Henchman's second rule, one that Doug was proving him right about in a different sense. There was an explosion on the other side of the building, and upon exiting the alleyway to escape saw Torchwick climbing a ladder up to the rooftops, now past the miniature she-beast. How had he gotten over there so fast?

It didn't really matter, as he knew that was the way to the getaway airship –and he should likely be making his way there too... that was until the tiny red devil herself rocketed up after Torchwick. He would have to round the building, as the aircraft was surely lowered to ground level right now. Doug sprinted around the block into the blind spot where fortunately, Torchwick's own boss had parked and gone silent. He climbed into the side of the ship, and she hardly gave him a glance before ignition, which he wasn't ready for and nearly fell out of the ship because of. He made a sound that could have been a curse or a cough from impact with the back wall.

They rose up to a height where Torchwick walked dramatically off of the roof into the hold, tuning around to look at his pursuer. "End of the line, Red!" with this, he hurled a Dust crystal he had hung onto at her feet, firing a projectile from his cane at the rock to detonate the potent crystal. There was yet another exciting explosion, and Torchwick laughed about the quick victory until the smoke from the blast cleared.

Some blonde chick was standing there, purple sigil floating in the air like a shield. They were unscathed... and this other cape-wearing broad proceeded to bombard their ship with purple orbs of light that made the thing wildly twitch in the air. Torchwick kept his footing; Doug fell on his face and slid to the front end of the ship. He grunted though he couldn't hear it over the systems beeping manically when Torchwick stepped on his back followed by his head to enter the cockpit, grinding his foot into Doug's cranium –intentionally, Doug would bet –as he informed the red-dressed pilot that they had a huntress on them. Wasn't this just perfect.

Torchwick backed off so that this lady's glass heels could stab him most painfully on her way overhead, and the Redhead allowing her to pass made one last step onto Doug's head again to reach the pilot's seat. Doug managed to rise and stumble into a sitting position against the wall behind the front seats, just out of view from the windshield. There was a sound he couldn't really describe, followed by rolling thunder and the sound of air displacement as footlong icicles began to rain on the aircraft, sliding them down on an angle. Torchwick was almost hit in the face by one, which in turn impaled the seat when he moved and stopped near Doug's eye. He found himself rolling to the side, though his reflexes wouldn't have saved him if the chair hadn't stopped the deadly raindrop in the first place.

There were some high-pitched combat clashes ringing through the air repeatedly now as some kind of otherworldly battle took place. Doug tumbled out next to Cinder for a moment, around the time the blonde on the roof decided to form a giant floating spear out of broken rooftop. As she launched it toward the ship, the woman in the red dress next to him braced against the door slid aside when Torchwick pulled off a strong tilt to the left; making the lance of stones deflect off the armor on top... which in turn dumped Doug out of the aircraft with a shout and a few swears muffled by the scraping of the attack against steel, hurtling into a window that surprisingly didn't break. He bounced off of this and half-caught a hold of a street light, which he soon smacked against and lost his grip on to descend backfirst into the sidewalk.

He stared up more out of a lack of ability to move in so much pain, watching as some heat waves and ashes came off the battle raging above. There were a few gunshots too. He really didn't care anymore. He rested for a few moments more on the pavement, but this proved to be too long.

"Hey there buddy. Need a hand? We certainly did, a few minutes ago." One of the other cronies was looking down at him. The other three soon occupied the other sides.

"Just when you think that Doubtful Doug can be trusted after all, huh?" the one with the goatee said. They knew him pretty well by now, but these guys were all the same to Doug. He could probably recognize them better by what little they had different than by actual name.

That said, Beardo laughed a bit. "We don't have much time, guys. The cops are sure to be making tracks."

"Can I just say one thi –" Doug was cut off by the flurry of blows from all sides, and after a minute or two of leaving him bloody and bruised they hoofed it at the sound of sirens. Briefly, he caught a glimpse of the Blonde Witch and the Red Devil leaving the premises, rolling pitifully into the shadows in hopes of not being seen.

If any of these things served an example, Doug was not a good Henchman, and likely never would be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Yellow Fury**

Being a Henchman wasn't working out for Doug. The altercation with Roman and the little red girl hadn't helped, but a few weeks beforehand things had been even crazier than that on his boss' home turf. The club had been fairly populated that night, but the mixer to wear the Deadb3ar head had called in sick –lucky for him, as it turned out later –and Doug filled in for him. Managing the tunes had been a skill he quickly developed as the one lackey that came back most often, and at the time he'd gotten a haircut and shaved. Letting his appearance go a little afterward had directly resulted from the misfortune he was currently recollecting.

* * *

The night had been going well, seeing as no one had brought up complaints about the ambiance, and Junior had just closed the deal with Torchwick (that Doug had turned out to be a part of in the future) when a young blonde strolled in. He could see the silhouette of her and her golden hair through the door before she entered, and her outfit was gratuitously exposing. The girl's eyes drifted around the club, and she eventually parked herself next to Junior, which wasn't the best place for her to choose in his opinion. Doug simply went about his given task, but nearly slipped the controls when he saw her clutch his boss' crotch like a vise. It looked uncomfortable to say the least, but that was soon dropped and goons were everywhere. She probably wouldn't be walking home tonight... if she was lucky she might, but with a limp at least.

The blonde continued to toy with Junior, and not being able to hear from here Doug arched a brow when Junior went to kiss the girl at her proposal, only to get a knuckle sandwich that sent him through a few panes of glass. Henchmen closed in around her, and she flipped back high into the air; this was his cue.

His cue to change the music to something more fitting, of course. He wasn't going to abandon his duty to fight a teenager that just slugged his employer across the club. That would be ridiculous!

Screwing with the lights, he had the dance floor shine red for the intense battle raging well below him. She punched and kicked his coworkers wildly, sending them all careening every which way off the pad like she was king of the hill. "... I guess in this case, it'd be Queen of the Castle..." He murmured to himself over the mixed rendition of a Weiss Schnee classic. Soon, a kink in the hose; she was out of disposable dummies to pound into mush. This meant that it was expected of Doug to do something now... there was a machine gun below the table; he lifted it, taking not-so-careful aim at the girl below, and prayed as he sprayed bullets at her.

Spraying and praying wasn't enough in this moment, as the blonde weaved through the deadly barrage and leapt over the mixer, kicking him in the chest. In his daze, he was helpless as she drove a shot-powered elbow into his collarbone, slammed his head into the mixer, and lifted him to fire both fists into his torso, launching him from his perch and letting him plummet to the floor below with a painful thud. The stupid b3ar head was thrown off, and he was laying at the feet of the Malachite sisters now, the hammering of his skull against the mixer having switched the song and hue of lights once again... He rolled over, resisting the urge to see up their skirts from his vantage point, seeing as they were a ways out of his age range. As much as it wasn't any sort of rule, Doug's consideration of madesty was also a point he always thought matched poorly with his chosen profession.

Stepping away from the girls as the two-on-one began, Junior bade Doug over to where he stood soothing an ache in his face that looked similar to the one just bestowed on Doug himself. Henchman's rule number three; Doug ran over, prepared to obey whatever orders the man had prepared for him.

"How the hell do you do that?"

Doug blinked. "Do what?"

"Take a beating like that, and just get up like nothing happened. Biggest coward in my crew, but you're like a damn punching bag... Forget it. Go get _that _for me, Doug."

There were only so many things Junior could want right now, and considering his club was under attack, was probably asking for his weapon. Doug vaulted with his left over the bar counter, rushing into the back room to go collect the rocket launcher-giant club hybrid, removing it from the polished case among their other hardware. Upon return, he found Junior's hand out expectantly, so placed the bat into his employer's mitt. This earned him a hard swing of the weapon into the side of his head, dropping him instantly with a grunt. That seemed to make Junior feel a little better. "Good job, Doug. Get back to the music, would you?"

"Y... Yes, Boss." Doug groaned, clambering to all fours and slowly to his feet. He managed to walk back up to his earlier position just as the last of the two Malachites were soundly beaten, shifting the song respectively as Junior made his re-entrance. Picking up the machine gun again, Doug aimed and pulled the trigger as the blonde girl evaded missiles, hearing an empty click. _'How disappointing,' _he thought sarcastically; _'I was hoping for another ass-kicking from goldilocks over there.'_

The back of his collar was grabbed, and Doug was yanked from the mixer by Melanie, dragging him down to where she and Miltia stood injured. Apparently, neither of them were injured enough to refrain from reaming out Doug for not changing the music as he was supposed to; the fact that they both lost to the Yellow Fury couldn't possibly be their fault, so it must have been the sounds being played over the speakers. That made all kinds of sense.

"Ugh, I hate that song! It was grating my ears the whole time we fought that girl!" Doug could think of something else grating his ears right now. Miltia wound up while Melanie was complaining still, swinging her leg up between his and lifting him for a moment with the impact. Doug let off a high-pitched noise much like his boss had not long ago.

"Next time, do your freaking job!" She yelled down at the cringing lackey now on his face and knees, and Melanie looked like she intended to add her own last comment and strike –but the sound of Junior getting bashed so hard he flew clean out of the club drew their attention. The girls made as much haste as they could in their current state, leaving Doug to his own thoughts on the floor.

_'Maybe this isn't really the job for me...'_

* * *

In the dark alleyway, Doug hid from the scene of Torchwick's and the Red Devil's fight until the police would finish speaking with the Dust Shop owner. The thought from the end of the night long before this one echoed in the back of his mind again, and Doug considered it more intently this time. Up until now he had never really considered anything else since his background would keep most anyone from hiring him now, and his skills were few outside the able-bodiedness required of grunt work; such as being a small fish in the pond that was organized crime. Returning to Junior as he was now would earn him some bruises; that were certain, seeing that it was the man's favorite stress reliever. If he stayed under the man's thumb any longer that pastime would only spread as he slid down the pecking order due to successive failures, and more helpings of pain from the Malachites as well as group punishment from his fellows did not sound pleasant in the least. He hated to say it, but it seemed now was the time for Doug to look for a new job.

But what could a former henchman possibly apply for? What _should _one apply for?

Doug wasn't even sure if someone would let him be a garbage man, let alone any other dirty job no one wanted. Even if the calling list was short, his credentials put off just about anyone, and his criminal record couldn't be erased overnight. No, whatever new thing he did, it would have to be another under-the-table job, possibly even something else that was illegal, and it wouldn't take long for Junior to discover that his old underling had taken up some other manner of business... Doug needed a new boss. A new underhanded, shady, intimidating boss. He wasn't exactly hopeful after abandoning the two biggest names in the underworld.

As luck would have it, Doug found a hand on his shoulder, and a smile full of pointed teeth beaming at him.

* * *

**And now we have ourselves another fic conjoined with RSOL because I said so. Much like **_**Resolve**_**, this will not be directly changing any preordained events, but will be focusing more intently on said events of the canon series.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Mysterious Maniac**

It was simple, really; Khiver Lybel would pay Doug a sum based on the value of the info given. The estimate was on a scale from vague to detailed, and regardless of where it landed on that spectrum the amount was gracious. However, Doug needed some kind of long-term solution to his current crisis. Upon hearing this, Khiver said he had an idea in that regard, but needed Doug's cooperation in their present deal as collateral of sorts. He had been offered a gamble, but after the options he'd run through his head before, this was one of the best he could probably make. It was either work for this Basket-case, or return to the under-appreciation of Junior's payroll. Even if this decision screwed him, it wasn't as if he could make his life much worse, could he?

Doug rattled off everything he knew about Roman Torchwick, Cinder Fall, and their plans to Khiver. That wasn't much; as all he really knew was that Roman had hired guys from Junior –Doug included –and that the man worked for Cinder, looting heaping loads of Dust from Vale regularly. This seemed to be all the info the stranger needed, for now. Either these vague facts meant more to him, or gave him something to look into.

Doug had recognized Khiver as the deranged lunatic that escaped from Sliverhang Asylum, but never expected him to be so... understandable. He was content, even if his teeth were creepy, and they had a perfectly normal conversation about who Doug was and who he worked for, what connections he had, etcetera. Doug only imparted what he knew out of fear that the psycho would snap his neck if he refused at first, but now that Doug had given away Junior's customer confidentiality he had destroyed his ties to the man even further –and Khiver had made his case reasonably enough to tempt such a betrayal. The nutcase rocked on his heels, trying to contain some kind of excitement. When he spoke, Doug wanted to correct the mix up of his name, but the sinister look on the man's face shut his trap.

"Okay, Dirk, here's the plan..."

* * *

Students. Students everywhere. The airship was jam packed with teenagers aspiring to be the next merciless killing machine everyone wanted, and then there was Doug near the back, holding his application for the esteemed position of 'Janitor'. How Khiver had cooked him up a new identity in a matter of hours was anyone's guess, but even this was an improvement. Just yesterday, he had been thinking something as mundane as this was barred to his lowlife self, and now it was more than an attainable job. He had been ecstatic, up until about a minute ago.

First, a hologram had appeared to announce their arrival, and that had been the Blonde Witch who nearly speared his face the other night. Fear crept up on his shoulders.

Second, the message had elicited some chat from the nearby students, one of which was none other than the Red Devil, whose presence was an unbelievably weird coincidence. If she so much as thought she recognized him, he could kiss his ass goodbye.

Fortunately, Doug's innate ability to never stand out kept him safe for the last few moments before the kids got off the airship. He was last, and he hadn't even set both feet on the ground yet before a mop was put into his hands. He looked up to see Miss Glynda Goodwitch, and it took everything in his power not to recoil from the dangerous woman.

"Mr. Dirk Brightsnap, correct? You're the new Janitor?"

He looked down at the tool already in his hands, and then back up. Another quality of his that mixed poorly with subservience reared its head; the uncontrollable urge to be a smartass when someone asked for it. "Unless you're bestowing me with a Huntsman model mop, I'd say so."

She squinted at him. "You may have noticed, but one of the students got motion sickness on the airship. That is your first task of the day... Maintenance is in the basement next to the east stairwell. I will be calling you to meet me in my office before the end of your shift."

Goodwitch turned on her heel and made for the assembly inside Beacon. Doug grimaced, and turned to clean up the first of many messes he would have to. Fortunately, it didn't seem like vomit boy had eaten much this morning, so Doug was through with this in no time and onto Academy grounds.

How Khiver had pulled off a fake ID and background behind it so fast for Doug was still a mystery, but his instructions in the use of it were easy to remember;

'_Get in, do your job, keep your head down. Being the janitor, you'll get used to the school's layout quickly. After the first year students' initiation day, get into the headmaster's office –or one of the teachers like Miss Gumwatch –and piece together when and where __**Weiss Schnee's **__first mission takes place. I'll probably have some other tasks for you, but that's the numero uno. Any questions?'_

He had only asked what the mysterious maniac's interest in the Heiress to Schnee Dust was, which he hadn't answered. Shmots, the one with the mask and goggles following Khiver around, had either tried to tell him something as well or get him to play Simon Says. Coming out of his reverie, Doug made his way down in the main building to where the boiler room and Maintenance office were. He found a detailed day planner for his time as the Janitor on day duty, since those at night didn't need to worry about between-class traffic or occupied rooms. Although today specifically, the freshmen were all having some kind of communal slumber party since no one had teams –thus, no assigned dorms –there were still precise hallways to mop, windows to wipe, and arenas to buff listed here. Doug got to work.

The place was extravagant and huge. At some point they expected him to do some upkeep outside like mowing the giant lawn, scrubbing the fountain and changing the water, sweeping and raking the entire courtyard –but that was for one of the days that most of the students vacated campus. The west wing of the Academy was his first stop; a few classrooms, the main hall, and one of the training gyms to be made spotless for when the initiation was over. Doug owned an apartment and kept it in pretty good condition, so it wasn't as if cleaning was foreign to him even on this kind of scale. He made quick work of the first classroom he came to and made to take another chunk of the hallways on the way to the next.

This is when he heard laughter outside the door, the laughter of a few people at least from the different tones mixing. The students of different years were still free to roam around, of course, though few of them were since classes weren't open today –this wasn't surprising. What was, on the other hand; there were cries of pain and the sound of scuffling.

From here he could see a handful of students, as he expected, across the hall from the door to the classroom he just finished. They were standing over a classmate, some brunette girl, and two of them were kicking her as she curled up to resist the blows. The other two students were pointing and laughing between remarks... The tall ears atop the brunette's head made it obvious as to the reasons why this was happening.

Doug was hardly a henchman, much less a hero. Confrontation was never the first thing to come to his mind; quite the opposite, he was known for his cowardice which was really just reasonable self-preservation at work. The fact was, here he was part of the faculty, and he was supposed to be cleaning up this hall. Even if they were training to be warriors, he was their elder and in a position where action should still be taken. Already he wished that Glynda had just given him her number so he could make her do something about this... he opened the door, garnering attention for a moment, but they returned to what they were doing when a mop bucket rolled out of the room. Apparently, previous janitors turned a blind eye to this sort of thing.

"I could always just do you a favor and tear these things off. Nobody would know the difference, right?" One of the students, a brunette herself but of lighter shade and shorter length, tugged a bit on the rabbit ears atop the victim's head. The face on the Faunus girl was a mixture of displeasure and giving up, saying without words _'just get it over with already'_. It was around now that Doug tapped the antagonist on the shoulder.

"Look, I gotta mop around here. Could you just leave her be and go someplace?" she sneered at him for a second, tilting her head at Doug.

"Get a load of this guy, huh?" One of her friends took her place for a second, clutching one of the rabbit ears to be certain the girl wouldn't escape while the human brunette gave her full attention to the older man. Smiling, she told him what to do with certain parts of himself to certain orifices of his own, and spat in his face.

As the girl turned her back on the janitor and flung another foot into the Faunus' chest, Doug wiped the saliva off his cheek, having to do so twice to get it out of his stubble. There were only so many things to do with the situation now; running off and getting a faculty member to tattle to was a good one. Instead, Doug chose the fun route now that he had probable cause –two three-litre jugs of floor cleaner were unscrewed of their caps, and Doug easily held them aloft over the mean girl's head, being much taller than her. She froze as the thick purple liquid coated her head, shoulders, and sapped down over the rest of her body until dripping off her skirt. Her friends seemed at odds with whether to stop the bullying session or laugh at their leader. They chose the latter.

She turned a one-eighty before he could react, slamming a fist into his gut and throwing him into the wall, and roared as she started pummelling the janitor for this transgression. Doug laughed heartily between each hit; she wasn't weak, but this was tickling compared to the Malachites' or Junior's punishments. "C'mon, you can do better than that! Put some backbone into it!"

Finally, much like the other women he had come to know, she resorted to bringing a knee up into his privates, at which point he coughed and bent over. He still laughed, but with a gasping difficulty, until stating; "I'm sure that made you feel better, but you should probably do something about yourself. Those chemicals are pretty strong..."

Only now did she look down, seeing her clothes beginning to tear where they were damp, as well as seeing some of her hair falling away. She screamed loud and horrified before rushing off, and with one last look at the worker and their targeted student, the other three chose to follow the fleeing brunette; it would seem she'd been the leader after all. Doug slid down against the wall, chuckling despite himself. The girl opposite of him that had been getting battered was in a sitting position too now, her eyes a near perfect match of her hair color. They stared at each other for a minute.

"Er... thanks, mister." She said halfheartedly, as it was obvious he didn't try too hard initially to save her from her fate.

"Uh-huh." He responded. There was another pause. He didn't want to get up because of the knot in his stomach from the groin injury, and she just didn't have the strength quite yet. "Are all the kids here so violent? I signed up for janitor duty so I could stop being a punching bag, to be honest..."

"Marissa's just spiteful... There are a few others, but she's one of the worst. I'm sure there'll be a freshman or two like that, but for the most part Beacon is... nice." She smirked. "Don't get discouraged."

Doug nodded. "Good to know. And uh, thanks..." He trailed off.

"It's Velvet."

"D-... uh, Dirk. That's me –Dirk." She giggled at him.

"Alright, Dirk. You've got a job to do, so I'll get out of your way." She got to her feet a little shakily, but seemed fine once at her full height, trotting away. Doug sighed with relief in not having given himself up on his first day, though dumping floor cleaner on a student was guaranteed to haunt him by the end of his shift. Primarily, he was relieved that Velvet had taken her leave.

Doug wasn't a coward, of that he was certain, but some things did scare him. Women in crimson dresses that could cook you alive scared him. Little red beasts with sniper-scythes scared him. Hot blondes that could create hailstorms of armor-piercing icicles scared him... but most of all, he was afraid of Faunus. Working with Junior's other goons, practically all of them were human and most were pretty full of themselves for being one of a group of thugs, and this led a lot of them to acting rashly, oftentimes against an easy target like a Faunus. This had pissed off the White Fang a good few times, and once or twice brought them to an altercation Junior had to sort out.

These little skirmishes had not been pleasant, but they had eventually developed into one big nasty brawl that he could never forget. A red-haired guy with horns and one of their Grimm masks had come after him with a vengeance amid the fight, wielding a red katana and gun-sheathe hybrid of some kind that had nearly taken Doug's head at least a dozen times that night. It had probably been sheer luck that kept his blood and guts inside his body the way this character had tried to eviscerate him, and ever since then Doug's fear of Faunus had been present whenever he was in the vicinity of one. That fear escalated every day with reports of the White Fang's notorious deeds.

So when Velvet had decided to come back when he wasn't looking, and get his attention when she wasn't too far from him, he almost jumped through the roof and scrambled a few feet from the girl. "Oh! H-hey there! Need something else? "

Velvet was taken aback by his reaction, and he calmed down quick so she could tell him what she wanted now. "Marissa won't take what you did lying down. She'll get you into some kind of trouble..." He figured that much already, but the rabbit seemed to have more to say. "I can vouch for you, if you need it. Call us even that way."

He hadn't even done much to deserve the help she offered, all things considered. His guard began to lessen some. "Sure thing. Thanks, Velvet."

She nodded and held up a hand in a hasty wave, taking herself elsewhere. Perhaps some Faunus weren't so bad...


End file.
